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Tigers & Transitions

So we’ve weaned. And that means my body doesn’t have to stay in a state of perpetual readiness to feed my boy. Which, for me, means a couple of things. First, bring on the margaritas. And second, it’s time to get back to me.

I took steroids to control my RA while breastfeeding my son. This keeps the inflammation in my joints down so I can scoop up my 20-pound boy without pain. But taking 20 mg of predinsone a day has downsides. Like increased appetite and swelling. I’m so puffy these days, and I’ve gained a lot of weight. I weighed less at the end of my pregnancy than I do now. Though I couldn’t tell you exactly how much I weighed then or now because I still refuse to use a scale.

And yes, I’m still a member of the HAES movement. Being fat is something I am. It’s a part of me. Spending my life apologizing for being the size I am is no way to live. I won’t do it. Suck it.

Anyway, Gibs and I weaned on Nov. 1st, and we haven’t breastfed since. I waited a whole month to make sure that Gibs was okay with this no more boob thing. But now, it’s time. I need to go back on my injectiable RA medication- Enbrel. Once I start these meds again, that’s it. No breastmilk for baby.

But Gibs really couldn’t care less. And though I feared that I would lose my connection with my son now that we weren’t breastfeeding, I’ve been shown what silly thinking that was. Time and again, Gibs needs me to help him fall asleep or comfort him through teething just by cuddling and singing together. Our bond isn’t through my boobs. I feel better knowing that.

So yesterday, I finally took my Enbrel prescription in for refill at the pharmacy. And then I trucked Gibs and myself over to the gym. The onsite day care has a $5 drop-in fee that I’m very happy to pay. And the facility is great. Too bad Gibs thinks I’m sticking him in purgatory when we go.

Is nine months too early to expect my son to handle an hour in day care with a stranger? I suppose it’s a lot to ask of any body. And the high schoolers they employ do a fine job. I’m less than 50 feet away from him the entire time I’m working out… not that he understands that. I try to think of it from his perspective.

He’s only been there about three times (which is how many times I’ve managed to make it to the gym since he was born.) Will he grow more accustomed to it the more often I take him to day care? Or should I just wait until he’s a little older and put off my own fitness goals?

Is it selfish to try to take care of myself when it obviously distresses him to be apart from me? Or is it something he needs to learn to deal with? And if that’s true, is nine months just too soon to try?

Oh Daniel Tiger, can you make Gibs understand? “Grown-ups come back.”

One way or another, I’m going to get back to taking care of myself. The holidays are a terrible time to try to curb outrageous eating. Or margaritas. But exercise is something I can and should do. And I prefer to do that at the gym. But if Gibs isn’t ready for day care, I may have to figure out something else for a while longer.

2 thoughts on “Tigers & Transitions”

My experience has been that he will go in and out of these periods where you’d think that the devil was after him when you drop him off and then the next thing you know he is like, “are you STILL here? You’re cramping my style.” Keep going to the gym, its just a strange new situation. I may be able to help with that too in the near future,